


not quite what i expected

by Steel



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: F/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:40:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steel/pseuds/Steel
Summary: Perrin kisses a girl for the first time, but it's not quite what he expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProspitPrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProspitPrincess/gifts).



> Hey, ProspitPrincess, I'm your Secret Santa! Sorry for how late this is, but you know how the holidays can be.
> 
> Cilia Cole is, canonically, the first girl Perrin ever kissed, though the specifics are never revealed. I might actually continue this someday with Perrin's other canon love interest prior to the series, Laila Dearn, but this gift fic was already running late as it was.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Perrin was only twelve years old when he became Haral Luhhan’s apprentice. Perhaps it was too young an age to be an apprentice, but Perrin had made his mind up early about wanting to be a blacksmith. Whenever he would visit Emond’s Field with one of his parents—usually for feastdays, or selling their crops, or buying supplies, or all sorts of other reasons—he would linger near the smithy and peer inside, silently watching Master Luhhan hard at work. He was such a large man, with thick arms and broad shoulders, but everyone liked him. No one was afraid of him just because he was too big, or too strong. And Master Luhhan was always happy to explain what he was working on whenever Perrin mustered up the courage to ask, never turning him away or brushing him off for being too busy.

While Perrin could not say that he liked having to move away from his family, it made sense. The farm was a half day’s walk to Emond’s Field, and he couldn’t very well get up in the middle of the night and walk all the way to the village to start work in the smithy on time. It was going to be all right, his father had said, ruffling his hair. There were some other boys who were older than him, whose families also owned farms, that were living in the village as apprentices too. He would do fine, his mother had smiled, hugging him tightly. Master Luhhan was a good man, and pleased to train Perrin in the ways of blacksmithing

He soon moved in with the Luhhans, and was surprised to be given his own room. It was a small room, with only a bed, a washstand and a wardrobe as furniture, but it was nice to not have to share with anyone. Like Master al’Vere’s clock, every morning he would get up bright and early to do chores at the smithy. It would be months until he was strong enough, experienced enough, to wield a hammer himself. So for now, he would sweep, polish tools, gather coals, refill barrels, and anything else Master Luhhan tasked him with. He would do chores for Alsbet Luhhan too, such as bring in water or do the washing up. All these chores made life not all that much different from living on the farm, though Mistress Luhhan was a stern woman and brooked no argument. Not even Master Luhhan dared to oppose her.

It felt strange at first, to be away from home. He was so used to being surrounded by people—his mother, his father, his younger siblings, and then of course his cousins, aunts and the one uncle—that living only with two people was difficult to get used to, and even the novelty of having his own room had faded over time. But living in Emond’s Field meant that he could got to see Mat every day, and he even saw Rand more often now that he was around whenever he and his father visited the village. He even saw his family too, his mother or father never failing to drop by the smithy to see how he was getting along whenever they visited.

Summer gave way to autumn, which soon gave way to winter and his nameday. That day, and on the numerous feastdays that preceded and followed it, Perrin was always allowed a few days off of work so he could return home, but the smithy always waited. For the most part, work there was enjoyable. Doing chores around the smithy was tiring work, and even though he himself had not started forging yet, Mistress Luhhan always insisted on him bathing when he got home in the evening. She was fastidious with cleanliness, and did not abide Perrin or her husband tracking in soot from the smithy. He learned quite a bit about tools, about how to pump the bellows just right to get the air flowing properly, how metal looked like when it was hot enough to forge, and a great deal of other things too.

“You should pay more attention to Cilia, you know,” Egwene said one cold morning, while they were sitting on the front step of the Winespring Inn eating honeycakes.

Her mother, Mistress al’Vere, made the best honeycakes in Emond’s Field. (The honeycakes were even better than his mother’s, Perrin had to admit, but then again his mother was unmatched when it came to her apple pies, which made him feel a little better about that thought.) Master Luhhan did not mind Perrin taking breaks from chores every so often, especially when he had finished them all ahead of time.

Perrin paused with his hand halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?” He had been about to lick some honey off his thumb, but he knew better than to do so now that Egwene’s undivided attention was on him. He wished Mat were here, like he normally was, but he had been caught stuffing straw in Mistress Coplin’s laundry the other day and was grounded for the week.

“Well, I can’t just _tell_ you if you don’t see it for yourself,” Egwene huffed. (She seemed to make that sound around him a lot, he had noticed.) Her gaze flitted over to one of the nearby buildings quickly before returning, an odd look on her face.

Perrin’s eyes slowly followed Egwene’s, and sure enough there was Cilia Cole. She was busy carrying a basket bulging with fruits and vegetables, but her large eyes kept straying towards them. There was no smile on her face today, though, not like there was other times.

“She doesn’t look very happy,” he observed uncertainly.

“Well, of _course_ she isn’t,” Egwene said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re sitting together eating honeycakes.”

“But we always do that whenever your mother makes them.” He could not understand what Egwene was trying to get at, and it made him feel slower than usual. “I’m sure your mother would be happy to give her one if she asked nicely.”

Egwene huffed again, louder this time, abruptly rising to her feet. “Never mind,” she grumbled. “I don’t even know why I bothered,” she added under her breath, but not quietly enough so that he did not overhear before stalking inside, slamming the door shut.

Perrin blinked in confusion, slowly licking his fingers free from honey. Egwene was difficult to understand on good days, and almost impossible on bad days. He wished Rand came to Emond’s Field more often. At least he knew how to talk to Egwene, no matter the day.

When Perrin next glanced at Cilia, she was smiling broadly. It made him lower his hand, feeling foolish, but her expression did not change. In fact, it seemed to him as if she was smiling over some other reason than him licking his fingers. But before Perrin could puzzle it out, she had to scurry after her mother.

Over the next few weeks, Perrin began to notice Cilia more often. He thought at first it was just because Egwene had pointed her out to him, but maybe it had been going on for much longer than that. She always seemed to be around, especially whenever he went on his daily walk to pick up fresh fruit, vegetables and meat for the meals Mistress Alsbet cooked them. Sometimes, he saw Cilia more than once in the same day. Whenever he noticed her, she would be sitting under a tree, standing near a building, or going on errands much in the same way he was. Still, it made him feel strange in a way he could not describe, like he was a mouse being stalked like a cat.

One warm winter’s day, with spring just around the corner, Perrin was filling one of Master Luhhan’s barrels at the river. He was still in his apprentice’s leather vest, and he would have to get back soon to do more chores, but it was on this day that Cilia finally approached him, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Hello, Perrin,” she greeted him, sounding a little breathless.

“Hello, Cilia,” he said, most of his attention still on the barrel that he was struggling to lug out of the river. “I hope you are doing well,” he added politely, though what he _really_ wanted to ask her was why she had followed him all the way to the river.

“Oh, I’m doing well, thank you.” A long pause followed as she watched him, silent for a time. “You’re really strong,” she suddenly blurted, as if she wanted to get the words out quickly.

Perrin almost dropped the barrel, but he recovered, setting the barrel on the river bank. In truth, he would have preferred going back and forth between the smithy and the river with buckets, but Master Luhhan insisted on him taking the barrel. Something about it being part of what it took to be a good blacksmith’s apprentice. In fact, the first time he had come to the river with Master Luhhan, he had been impressed when the man lifted the barrel with ease, and wondered if he would be able to do that someday.

Which just made his face feel hot at Cilia’s comment. “I’m nowhere near as strong as Master Luhhan,” he mumbled, shifting his feet. “But, uh… thank you, I suppose.”

Cilia beamed, and he thought that the smile suited her plump cheeks. “I just wanted to ask...” she began, but then quickly fell silent and dropped her gaze, her normally pink-cheeked face turning even more pink.

Perrin waited for her to continue patiently, but as the silence stretched out between them, he began to think that it was high time he started dragging the barrel back to the smithy. But she stayed silent, staring at her feet. Perhaps she had forgotten what she wanted to say? It had happened to him before, too. He could not deny he was curious to hear what she had to say now that she had begun, as she had never approached him to talk to him before.

“You wanted to ask...?” he prompted gently.

“Will you dance with me at Bel Tine?” she said quickly, still not staring at him. Her face was not pink anymore, either. Now it was as red as Master Congar’s face after a glass of wine.

Perrin blinked in surprise, but his thoughts rearranged themselves quickly. It all made sense now, the way she always seemed to be around whenever he went out, the way she wasn’t staring at him now. His face turned even redder, not really knowing what the proper answer was. He enjoyed dancing at every Bel Tine just as much as the next person did, and was looking forwards to it in a couple of weeks, but he had never been specifically asked to dance _with_ anyone before.

Now that he thought about it, Cilia _was_ very pretty. Her dark eyes were large, her cheeks rosy. In fact, she looked prettier now that she was red with embarrassment, though he did not think that would be a nice thing to say. He had just never really noticed it before.

“Uh, sure,” he finally said. “If it means so much to you, that is.”

Cilia nodded quickly, finally lifting her eyes to his again. “All right, then. At Bel Tine.”

Before Perrin could even think of saying anything else she ran off, hiking her skirts up and making a mad dash for the closest building. He was left there standing in bemusement for a very long time, trying to work out what had just happened, until he remembered that he had to get back to the smithy. Naturally, he wound up getting there late and being scolded for his tardiness, but at least Master Luhhan believed him when he said he hadn’t been with Mat.

More weeks passed until it was finally Bel Tine. Perrin dressed that day in his new best clothes, given to him by his mother when the entire family came down for Winternight, staying overnight at the inn. Even Aunt Ealsin came with them, though she was technically his great-aunt, commenting on just about everything she did not like to anyone who would listen. Perrin spent most of the day with them, glad to be surrounded by his family again, though he did scurry off to spend time with Mat, Rand and some of the other boys. Until the dancing started, and he remembered his promise to Cilia. Come to think of it, he had not seen her once during the festivities.

He made up some hasty excuses and left the boys in search of her, finally finding her after the other villagers had finished three dances and were on the fourth, on the edge of the village green alone. She looked rather pretty in her new dress, though her large eyes looked sad.

“Hello, Cilia,” he greeted her, waving a hand awkwardly. “Are you all right?”

She brightened immediately at the sight of him. “I am now,” she giggled, clasping her hands together. “I thought you had forgotten me.”

He did not think admitting that he almost had would be a good idea, so he settled for offering her his hand instead. “You said you wanted to dance, right?”

She nodded eagerly, taking his hand. Soon, he had led her back onto the green, where other boys and girls their age were dancing, though some of their steps were admittedly clumsy. Most of Perrin’s steps were too, but Cilia seemed to find it funny and kept dancing with him, though all her giggling soon made her mess her steps up too.

Perrin lost track of how many dances there were, and of what they talked about during them, but they were enough to wind him by the time they stopped. So when Cilia led him a little ways away, Perrin did not think much about it. “Master Luhhan hasn’t let me forge anything myself yet,” he was telling her, still a little breathless from all that dancing. “But he tells me it will be soon. I imagine I might start around shearing time.”

“That sounds lovely,” Cilia said, coming to a stop beneath a tree.

There were fewer people here, which Perrin had not noticed until just then. Suddenly, the uneasy feeling returned and he wet his lips nervously. Cilia was staring at him oddly, making his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He had no idea what to say, now that they were alone. Talking to his sisters or Egwene was never this difficult. Why did he feel so nervous?

“I think you’re really nice, Perrin,” she said, saving him from having to think up of something to say, still holding one of his hands. She looked up at him shyly, as if expecting something.

“Uh, thank you?” he said dumbly, still not knowing quite what to say.

Cilia grinned, and then stood up on tiptoe to kiss him. Perrin was too shocked to do much else besides stand there awkwardly. Weren’t you supposed to kiss people only if you liked them? He didn’t know if he liked Cilia; she made him too nervous, even though she was pretty. Did she like him because he was nice? He did not know what to do with his hands, or his mouth. How did you kiss someone back anyway?

After a moment, Cilia drew back, brows furrowing together. “I thought kisses were supposed to be more exciting.”

“I thought so too,” he said without thinking.

Looking back on the incident, Perrin thought he could have gone about things in a better way if he had realized sooner what Cilia’s intentions were, but he just could not bring himself to like her in the way that she had wanted him to. If he ever married—and that was a _very_ big if—he wanted to be friends with his wife first.

At least he and Cilia parted ways amicably after that. Or at least, that was what Perrin _thought_.

Weeks later, Mat came up to him grinning from ear to ear to boast that he too had kissed Cilia, and that she had very much enjoyed _his_ kiss. Perrin did his best to ignore him, not really bothered by Cilia kissing other boys when he had decided he did not like her that way.

But he would never tell Mat _anything_ about girls again in the future.


End file.
